Glittering Saillune. How long had it been since he's seen its majestic temples and stalwart palace walls? It seemed like almost a lifetime ago, for all the pain that wracked his body. The sight of the city filled him with hope -- hope that he was in time to warn her.

Everything went wrong. Everything. But determined to regain his humanity, Zelgadis lost sight of what humanity was. Then, gained a small understanding. Then, for the chance of being human again, threw it all away.

He had his flesh, his soft dark hair. He had his face, and his dark, round eyes. But for them he gave up his power -- his strength. And, he realized, his ability to do anything about what could happen next. Zelgadis' face was suddenly illuminated; in his wood of thoughts, he had unintentionally cast Lighting. Yes, he still had his magic, though it wasn't as devastating as even when he had first met Lina, the mutual friend which bonded them all.

There was a sudden, sharp sound in the air, as if the winds were forced apart with an unexpected blast of noise. Zelgadis' trained instincts shot adrenaline through his body, for the aura he felt was strong. And... familiar.

"Xelloss!" he whispered in a hushed voice. But a repliant voice came out of the still night air, an almost sing-song vocalization with sarcastic undertones to those who could listen close enough.

"My goodness!" it exclaimed, "I never dreamed that you would get this far on your own!"

Zelgadis remained silent this time, sure that another slip of the tongue would betray his thoughts to the Mazoku he was certain was hanging about.

"That was a terrible thing you did in the New World. And here I thought you had softened up and laid off that old, forlorn hope of 'humanity.'" The voice chuckled. Zelgadis growled, though it was far less intimidating coming from the enfeebled, human side of him.

"What would you tell your dear princess if she found out...?"

Zelgadis stared at the ground from his post against the tree as the words sunk in. His breaths began to come faster by sight in the winter air. The silence pervaded for a few seconds, and then the cheerful voice returned:

"Exactly! That's exactly what you'd say!" it announced, elated at the least. "Hahahahaha!"

Zelgadis felt the presence vanish with the same snap of air that it appeared with. Zelgadis grabbed at the ground, tearing up the dewy grass. Bringing his form to rest on his haunches, he screamed furiously at the vanished voice:

"XELLOSS!"

---&---

Amelia exited her room with her most unceremonious cleric's garb. It wasn't the same one that she wore when she traveled the world, though -- it was slightly different and larger, for she had grown. The shoulders were bare, and the pink choker she used to wear had been replaced by a blue one. A blue lens-shaped ward brooched two purple straps to her tunic. The top seam was this fabric, and this color, as well. The base color was the same as her original: a creamy, off-white. Her trousers were more like tights now, but they were still cloth. Up and down the outer seams they were embroidered with runes in gold thread. Her boots were purple like the outlines of her outfit and appeared as simple slip-ons.

As her attendants swarmed her for the purpose of making sure that she was spotless, Amelia busied herself with fastening the cuff that she used to wear on her right wrist on her belt.

"Mr. Zelgadis," she murmured softly, unheard by the hubbub around her. She looked up in time to catch her elderly assistant approaching her, dressed in all the white fineries of a Saillune royal official. His hair, medium in length, framed a thin face that had seen its share of worries and joys, though more pains in recent months than anything else. He bore Amelia's mantle reverently and handed it to her, smiling paternally as he did.

"Thank you, Clawfell," she replied to the gesture, and accepted the mantle with a smile. Though she handled it, her attendants soon took it from her to apply it to Amelia. The mantle was as regal as one can imagine without it being over-the-top: it was a white like the snow-capped mountains among the horizons south of the city, and the inside was a dark violet that accentuated Amelia's bobbed hair perfectly. Between the two, though, Amelia was much more clerical in appearance than princess.

"What is Daddy doing today?" Amelia asked of Clawfell. He folded his hands behind his back and walked alongside Amelia as the attendants filtered away from the two.

"His Highness is meeting face-to-face with dignitaries from Ralteague and Lyzeille. I do not know the details of the meeting, but it seems to be involved with continuing the explorations of the New World."

"Ah..." Amelia replied flatly. Clawfell just continued to stare at her as if he was waiting for her to cry. But she didn't, not in the least. Instead Amelia gave him a cheery smile.

"I hope it goes well, then. I'm off!" she chirpped, and she almost skipped off without looking back. Clawfell watched her round the corner, shaking his head.

"Age and loneliness can change a person, can't they?"

---&---

Amelia watched the world slowly roll by from the window of her carriage. Leaning against the slight ridge of the carriage wall, Amelia's left knuckle somehow found its way into a home between her teeth. The carriage was quite safe, or so the guards accompanying it had told her. For the most part it was unmarked, so there was no sign of royalty save within. Amelia had arranged for this short trip out of nowhere, her reason being that "she needed some fresh air."

Not that she could go anywhere unattended anymore. Now she understood why her father escaped the confines of the palace so many times in the cover of night. He was a free spirit, in essence, but now he had "knuckled down" as the king himself put it.

About an hour after leaving the city's main gates, Amelia felt the carriage jolt to the left. The sudden movement caused the princess to slip her propped up arm and hit her head. Annoyed, Amelia shouted.

"Hey! What gives? This road isn't that narrow!"

One of the drivers replied to Amelia with a clear and repentant voice.

"Our apologies, Your Grace, but there is was a man in the way of our cart. We wouldn't want to trample him, now!"

Amelia cocked her head to a side. "A man on the road? Is he hurt!"

The escorts -- not just the drivers -- could sense what was coming. "Well, Your Grace, it's--"

"We can't leave an injured person on the road like that! It's wrong, immoral, mean and unjust! Stop the carriage!"

"But Your Gra--"

Amelia didn't bother arguing, for by this time she had already opened the carriage door. The guards pulled the horses to a stop only after Amelia levitated herself off the carriage. Fixing her mantle with a light "hmph," Amelia eyed the man that the carriage had just passed by. He was a curious fellow, clothed in all white garments. They were tattered, though, and frayed to an extreme where such clothing might as well be considered rags. Amelia noted his black hair and lightly tanned skin as she stepped over to his fallen form and kneeled.

She assessed his condition as the guards loomed over her, nervous that an ambush might befall them if they waited too long out in the open. After a moment of studying him, Amelia chanted softly until her hands gave off a white glow. She positioned herself comfortably so that she could heal the traveler of his exhaustion.

A minute passed and the fallen man stirred on his own. Amelia smiled and wrapped the spell up, stepping back to give him some room. The man ran his hand roughly against the road, clutching at the gravel. Amelia winced, knowing that it wasn't good for one's cuticles to do that.

"Um... Mister? Are you alright?" she asked with a sweet voice. The man stopped moving, a breath drawn in deeply by him at the sound of Amelia's voice. With his ragged hand, he pushed off the gravel to look at the princess that had spoken them.

"A-Amelia?"

It took Amelia an awkward, dumbfounded minute to place the voice, but when she did her mannerisms morphed immediately. She had to gasp first, almost in disbelief. But then she started placing his features: his face, his jawline, his eyes. And his voice -- "Mr. Zelgadis!"

She caught him before he fell back to the ground, almost getting dragged along with him.

"Do you know him?" one of the escorts asked.

"Get him into the carriage," Amelia commanded. She never knew.

She couldn't have known.